Previews

I don't get much time on my own to write the blog, so I tend to have to do it all at once. So that I don't forget the posts I have not had time to write tonight, I am going to give a preview of the next 3 posts.

Barbie
Sports Day
Air travel

Feel free to vote on which one you would like to read first!

Working Mum's dilemma

It is mother's day next Sunday everywhere except the UK. This means that the Boy gets a shot at not forgetting, having been reminded back in March already about the UK one. It also means that Mums get invited to participate in lots of celebrations of Mum-hood.

Except, like most things, I always leave it to the last minute and forget. This year, with Eve at the stupidly-expensive-what-am-I-paying-for pre-school, Mums get invited in to have something made for us and a special Mum's story. It is on the 6th May so I booked the time off months ago, moved meetings, arranged to be in the country.

Then we get an email on 29th April, just before a HK public holiday, when the school is on vacation, saying that it has been moved to one week later. Cue panic and annoyance from me. They post the important dates on their website and I arrange my working life around them so that I can attend concerts and sports days and expected events, it is simply not acceptable to change them with one week notice. I almost wrote a nasty email back as disgruntled of Pokfulam, but it seemed a bit pointless because it wouldn't make any difference. Most of the Mums at the school don't work (I've only found one other that does so far) so presumably most only needed to change their yoga classes or tennis lessons.

Do I sound like a bitch? Probably.

The friends you make during pregnancy

While staying in on my own last night (public holiday so no nanny and the Boy is visiting one of my favourite cities in the world - boo hiss) I watched an interesting program on BBC Knowledge about diet and fat. Apparently, one can increase the number of fat cells in ones body, for example when one is pregnant and tends to lay down a little extra for winter, but once they are there we can't get rid of them. It doesn't matter what you try, they just sit their waiting to soak up fat.

So all those hours at the gym and denying myself doughnuts is pointless.

Then I hit upon the solution. Surgery. A bit over the top?

Summer has finally hit HK

Within one day of the temperature changing, I have 10 mossie bites and feel like one big itch. Despite being on the 23rd floor and too far away from the ground for the little blighters to fly into the flat, the little bastards have a way of getting into the lift on or with someone and setting up home in our flat. One has been munching me for the last two nights, despite deet, citronella and mossie coils going all night.

As I was in my kitchen this evening making a cup of tea, the horrid (and, may I say, rather full) looking suspect tried to land on me. Ha, gotcha. I feel great now and hope to sleep in peace - unless there are two of them...

When the cat's away

When I was growing up my Dad rarely went on business trips and when he did it was usually to see some sort of nuclear machine in Switzerland. I remember his trips for two reasons. Firstly because he used to bring back presents, a music box, a bear, chocolate. Secondly, because whenever he went away some calamity would befall the family. One year there was the UK's strongest hurricane in decades, made famous my Michael Fish declaring there was only a bit of mild wind on the way. Another year I recall my Mum dropping me off at school and watching the exhaust fall off the car as she drove down the road.

This tradition seems to have been passed down a generation and, with stunning regularity, Eve always gets sick when the Boy is on a business trip. Of the 4 times we have taken Eve to hospital (not as extreme as it sounds, the doctors in HK don't do "on call" so our only option on a weekend or evening is to head to the local hospital), three of these times the Boy has been away.

He flew to Turkey on Sunday. Today is Tuesday and, true to form, Eve has a stinking fever with no obvious cause and I am looking at a sleepless night on my own.

Last will and testament and a final joke

In amongst the things that my mother has been left, relatively abruptly, to handle on her own, probate and handling the will seems to be the most troublesome. As with all things in life, she has approached it with an admirable sense of practical togetherness. One of the problems she faced is that Dad hadn't updated his will in a while and it refers to assets that we no longer have so we need to adjust the will. As an executor, and one who lives in a different country, I needed to waive my rights over this or some such. Mum called me to tell me there was a form in the post for me to sign to do this.

Mum: It's in the post but there is just one thing I need to tell you. Your Dad wrote you into the will as Mrs S (my husband's surname)
Me: But that isn't my legal name. On all documents I am Ms P.
Mum: I know, but it will be too much hassle so can you just sign it as Mrs S?
Me: (raised voice) But I am not Mrs S. I have never been Mrs S. That's the name of my mother in law. I am Ms P.
Mum: (sighing) I know, but your Dad wrote you into his will as Mrs S so that's what you need to sign the form as
Me: But I'm not Mrs S. Dad knew that. It was a ridiculous thing for him to have done, he knew I am not Mrs S and hated anyone calling me that.
Mum: Yes, of course he did and he knew how much it annoyed you so you should probably think of it as his last joke.

And in that light it made complete sense, very much my Dad's sense of humour to jovially wind me up about it. Even in death Dad managed to make me laugh.

Be prepared

I was at lunch with a colleague a few weeks ago when, over post lunch coffee, he announced that he'd just bought some survival rope (or some such, there was a name but I can't remember it) for his survival kit. Thinking he was joking, and he is a colleague of whom I am very fond and work with a lot, I was a bit bemused. This came a couple of days after the Japan earthquake, after which most of HK had totally overreacted to the idea that radiation might reach HK, so I really thought he was joking.

He then proceeded to tell me the contents of his family's survival kit. He strongly believed that he should have sufficient food, clothing and water for a week.

I didn't quite know what to say. Having been stuck in a natural disaster myself, my main thought was a) helping other people b) getting out and c) making sure the duty free booze and the chairs we had bought got out with us. I don't joke lightly about this. We were on the coast of Sri Lanka when the boxing day tsunami hit and I saw and did some horrible things and have never felt fear like it before or since. The focus of the chairs and champagne got us through with relative good humour and sanity in the face or the tragedy around us. However, I can't think of that many situations we would ever be in within HK when we would need a survival kit. I take on board the food and water argument, but sleeping bags and ropes? Are we assuming all our apartments will be flattened and I'll need to scale a mountain?

Maybe I am a cynical Brit. Maybe I am somewhat fatalistic about things and take each day as it comes. Perhaps I should think about this more seriously and he has a point.

This post invites comment so please do.